The Challenge Collection
by Tanya Reed
Summary: My answers to weekly challenges posted on the Going Hunting Relic Hunter message board.
1. Peanuts

Peanuts

by Tanya Reed

We have a weekly challenge set up on our Relic Hunter message board (the URL is in my profile, if you're interested.). The challenges are short one-shots whose theme and length are decided by the Challenger. I've decided to post the results of mine here on a periodic basis. (If you want to read the new ones or everyone else's, feel free to come check them out.)

This one is from the first challenge: Any length, Nigel and food.

Disclaimer: I don't own Relic Hunter or its characters.

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Sydney turned from the window where she had been contemplating the clouds and glanced at Nigel. Her partner was reading quietly--or at least trying to. She could see the tell tale signs of his eyelids drooping as he fought off the inevitable nap. All forms of travel made him drowsy, and he could easily fall asleep in the middle of the most exciting hunts.

Nigel hadn't caught her studying him yet, so she let her eyes roam over his face. She thought he looked sweet with his hair mussed and his face unguardedly sleepy.

Suddenly, their quiet journey was interrupted by a loud, rumbling sound. Nigel jumped slightly and dropped his book on the floor.

"Oh!"

"Nigel," Sydney said, unable to keep the laugh from her voice, "was that your stomach?"

A faint tinge of red flushed over his face and ears. "I'm afraid so, Syd."

"It sounded like a bear."

"I do apologize, but it's been at least ten hours since we've eaten."

Sydney leaned down to reach between them, steadying herself with a hand on Nigel's knee. It took her eyes a moment to locate Nigel's book in the dim light because it had partially fallen under the seat ahead. Finding it, she fished it out and straightened triumphantly.

"You did eat that bag of nuts when we first got on--along with that extra package that nice stewardess gave you."

"Two bags of peanuts isn't enough to fill a man's stomach. Besides, that was over two hours ago." He took the book Sydney was holding out to him with an almost pout.

Sydney patted his hand. "Have a little nap, Nigel. You won't remember you're hungry if you're asleep."

His stomach growled again, even more loudly. "How can a person sleep through noise like that?"

She eyed his stomach for a second before bringing her gaze back up to his face. "You really are hungry."

He groaned piteously. "I feel as if I might fade away for lack of food."

Sydney frowned and dug through her satchel for a moment. "Then, here, Sweetie. You can have my peanuts."

He took the offered bag gratefully. "Thanks, Sy...What did you say???"


	2. The New Teacher

The New Teacher

by Tanya Reed

Challenge: Sydney and children, around five hundred words

Word count: Somewhere between 500 and 550

Disclaimers to follow the story...

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Sydney could hear the whispering, and she knew the meaning, even if the words weren't quite audible. She walked up to the blackboard, wondering for a moment if taking a job teaching children in a foreign country was really wise. She knew that teaching pre-teens and teenagers for her year away from Trinity would be stranger than anything she was used to, but she also knew that, if it panned out, it would lead to a wondrous relic.

She smiled at the room full of eleven year olds, but they all seemed too stunned to smile back. With a shrug, she turned to the blackboard. There was a collective gasp as she picked up the chalk with her fingers and started to write "Professor Sydney Fox".

"Excuse me, Professor." A timid voice came from the front row.

Sydney eyed the skinny boy with blond hair and freckles. "Yes, Mr. Humphries?"

"If you...I mean...We want to...um..."

Sydney raised an eyebrow as she waited patiently.

"What he means to say is," another boy got up, his face scornful, "you shouldn't be here."

A rumble swept through the classroom, but it stilled when Sydney raised a hand. She had been warned that there might be trouble, especially with students from this boy's ilk.

"It's not right," he continued. The murmurs sounded like agreement.

Sydney slid her glasses down her nose and looked at the boy over the top of them. "And why is that, Mr. Jones?"

"You're a...You're a..."

"A muggle?" she asked, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. She was not afraid of these children, even if they would soon have the power to do things she had only imagined.

"Muggles don't belong at Hogwarts."

"Is that so?" She moved over to her desk and propped herself on the edge. "I was especially chosen by your headmaster because I _am_ a muggle. Who better to teach Muggle Studies? I've heard your people have been through some tough times lately, and the first instinct of some of them was to take it out on some of mine. I believe a large part of this was because of ignorance. " This time her gaze sought out that of every child in the room. "I have learned to believe that the best teacher is one who knows his or her subject well, and I know muggles very well. Sit down, Mr. Jones."

The boy sat, grumbling to himself, "a muggle at Hogarts," but the rest of the children were looking at her almost eagerly.

Once he was settled, she said, "My name is Professor Sydney Fox, and I will be teaching Muggle Studies for the year. I am a muggle. You will learn from me, and I will learn from you. Are there any questions?"

The timid blond boy hesitantly raised a hand.

"Yes, Mr. Humphries?"

"Is it true that muggles are always born in pairs?"

There was a collective groan, and Sydney sighed. It was going to be a long year.

The End

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Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter (the universe belongs to J.K. Rowling) or Relic Hunter.


	3. The Letter

The Letter

by Tanya Reed

Challenge: Nigel, Claudia, and a love letter. 500-1000 words.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Relic Hunter, and I don't think it's in my future...

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Nigel scribbled furiously on a piece of lilac scented paper. Every once in awhile, he would stop and look furtively around, making sure there was no one else in the office. He had never done this kind of thing, and he was terrified that he would get caught.

He suddenly stopped in mid-line and studied what he'd written. It was horrible! With a frown, he crossed out several lines. What was he doing? How was he supposed to...?

His thought was cut off as the paper was ripped out from under his hands.

"What's this?" a shrill voice asked.

Horror filled him as he looked up and saw Claudia clutching the letter he'd been working on for an hour. Her face was full of curiosity. Nigel wanted to die.

"Claudia, give me that back," he demanded, making a swipe for it.

"Oh, this must be good," she said, moving it out of his reach. Her eyes widened with delight as she read aloud, "Your hair is like soft silk..."

Nigel jumped from his desk and made another swipe, but Claudia avoided him easily.

"Your skin feels like heaven? Nigel, this sounds like a bad romance novel."

"Claudia!"

This time, his lunge brought him so close that his fingertips brushed the paper. Claudia did a little skip so that he wasn't so close. Nigel didn't let her get away and moved with her. She gave a squeak and hurried across the office. Nigel followed, and by the time they reached her desk, they were running.

Unfortunately, Claudia was still reading. "I long to feel your lips against my skin..."

She giggled and rushed around her desk. Nigel let out a cry of pain as he barked his hip on the way by.

"I'm going to kill you, Claudia!"

"Why, Nigel?" she asked, dodging him neatly and running back towards his desk. "There's nothing to be ashamed of...though Walter Shakespeare you're not."

"It's William. Now, give me that," he roared, making a final, desperate lunge.

A triumphant thrill went through him as he felt the thin paper in his hand. He tugged and it came free of Claudia's fingers.

"Hey! I wasn't finished reading that!"

Nigel ignored her as he prepared to rip the letter into shreds. He was so intent on his task that he didn't see Claudia's body hurtling towards him. She hit him in a heavy tackle, causing both of them to tumble to the floor.

"I got you now," she said gleefully from astride him, reaching for his hands.

Nigel wiggled and held them over his head, but her arms were longer. She stretched above him, giving him an inadvertent glance down her shirt, and snatched the letter from his hand.

"What's going on here?"

They both froze and turned their heads towards the door. Flames raced over Nigel's face as he realized what they must look like.

"Uh, hi, Syd," he said.

Claudia jumped off of him, his letter clutched in her hand. "Yeah, hi, Syd. You've got to read this."


	4. A Fic for Karen

A Fic for Karen

By Tanya Reed

Challenge: Karen, sunblock, and a donkey. No other people or beaches allowed. Any length.

Disclaimer: I don't own Relic Hunter. If I did, it'd be available on DVD.

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"Nothing's ever easy."

This thought went through Karen's mind as she lay on the hard packed dirt, looking up at a cloudless blue sky. The sun shone on her face, tickling it with warmth and light. It, not to mention the pain in her butt and her head, made her reluctant to move.

Close by, she heard rustling and munching, and, even closer, an overly friendly fly buzzed near her nose. She wondered idly if it was attracted to the sunblock she had recently lathered generously over her face. Already, she could feel grit from the dusty air sticking to the liquid. Some of it had made it to her lips, and she grimaced at the taste against her tongue.

A sigh escaped her and she waved one weary hand at the fly. For a moment, she was tempted to give into self pity, but the knowledge that Sydney and Nigel were depending on her wouldn't let her.

She let the events that had led to her lying breathlessly on the ground in a country she hadn't even known existed run through her head.

Nigel and Sydney had brought her with them on their latest hunt, as they did occasionally. Then, they stashed her in the local inn while they went running through the countryside.

The inn had been a disaster. The inside had been cramped and dark, with stuffy, oven-like rooms. The worst part was that her window wouldn't open to give either light or a cool breeze. To make matters worse, Karen's plug adapters were still in the States, and the innkeeper was a lecherous fish. It had seemed like heaven when she got the call from Sydney to her and Nigel at some ruins. Karen had been in that hellish hotel for four days, and she was ready and willing to escape. The innkeeper went up a couple of notches in her opinion when he told her they even had transportation.

Karen returned to the present as a puff of grassy smelling air hit her face. Slowly, she turned her head to look at the monster who had thrown her to the ground.

The small gray donkey regarded her with guileless brown eyes. He chewed placidly, his expression curious. It was almost as if her were asking her why she was lying in the dirt. Karen grit her teeth. Jekyll, as she had named him, was a sweet creature—until you tried to ride him. Karen had the bruises to prove it.

"What are you looking so smug about?" she growled softly.

Jekyll's expression didn't change.

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say."

Knowing she had to move now or she never would, Karen began to carefully check for broken bones. Luckily, she found none, so she sat up. The world tilted crazily for a minute, making her catch her breath.

She thought about getting to her feet and walking back to the miserable inn. Then, she thought about Sydney and Nigel waiting for her to bring them the last important piece of the puzzle. With determination, she stood and eyed Jekyll. The donkey eyed her back.

"All right, you listen to me, you miserable donkey. I'm going to come over there and get on your back. You're going to bring me two kilometres in that direction," she pointed, "without a fuss. You will **not** turn into mister Hyde and dump me again. Do you hear me?"

The donkey seemed to wink evilly at her. Karen frowned and forced herself over to grab his reigns. Luckily, Jekyll remained passive as she clambered onto his back. She felt a little shaky, but she pushed it away. Sydney and Nigel were depending on her and she'd come through for them. She just hope they would appreciate it.


	5. Making Pizza

Making Pizza

The Challenge: Sydney at Sixteen, any length.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but I love to play with them.

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Sydney and Trish sat in Sydney's living room watching the closing credits roll across the screen. Both of them were draped over a piece of furniture. For Trish, it was the big blue armchair in the corner. Her legs hung over one arm and her head over the other. On her stomach sat an empty bowl. Sydney lay face down on the couch, one long arm dangling so that her hand touched the floor. The rest of her body was tangled in a homemade crocheted afghan.

"I love Patrick Swayze," Trish sighed.

Sydney glanced at her and swore she saw her best friend rubbing at her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, thinking of Trish's bedroom walls, "I know. Are you hungry?"

"Well, I just finished the chips...but I could eat."

"How do you feel about pizza?"

Trish looked at her watch, knocking the bowl to the floor in the process. "It's after midnight. Jerry's only delivers until eleven."

"Oh, Trish." Sydney rolled her eyes and struggled to free herself from her afghan. "We've got instant dough in the cupboard. We'll make our own. Dad does it all the time."

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"Um..."

Sydney knew what Trish wanted but was to tactful to say. The last time Sydney had made them dinner, it had been a disaster. "How hard can it be?"

"For you?"

Now free, she threw her pillow at her friend. It hit Trish on the side of the head with a soft thump. When this produced a giggle and not retaliation, she got to her feet and beckoned Trish towards the kitchen.

"Are you sure your father won't mind?"

"Trish, I'm sixteen years old. He's not going to ban me from the kitchen."

"My parents still treat me as if I were ten."

Sydney knew how strict her friend's parents were, which was why they spent most of their sleepovers here. Randall let them have free run of the house, and he was gone a lot. That night, he hadn't come home yet, and Sydney didn't expect him for several hours.

"Dad trusts me."

She entered the kitchen and headed for the cupboard. She knew where the pizza mix was and most of the stuff to put on it. Trish headed to the fridge and opened the door wide.

"There should be some pepperoni in there," Sydney told her, "and some cheese."

"I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"A twelve year old could make this. You worry too much."

She turned and flipped the box to Trish, who was holding both the cheese and the pepperoni. Trish jumped out of the way and the box clanged against the fridge and dropped to the floor.

"Oops. Sorry."

Trish just made a face at her and went to put her burdens on the sideboard. Sydney snickered and picked up the box, wondering if she had dented the sauce cans.

Things were silent for a few minutes as Sydney went to work making dough and Trish started grating cheese. After a moment, Sydney couldn't stand it and had to tease her best friend.

"Be careful with that. You know how you are with sharp edges."

"Oh, ha ha...Ow!"

Sydney grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"That was because you distracted me...Speaking of distractions, what's up with you and Tony?"

The smile immediately fell from Sydney's face. "We had a fight."

Trish sighed heavily. "I gathered that. What about?"

She beat her dough silently for a moment as she thought about the words she and Tony had said to each other the day before. It was their first fight, and it was over something stupid.

"Hey, go easy on that. It can't fight back."

"It was stupid and all my fault."

"Sydney Fox admitting she was wrong? The world must be coming to an end...Ow!"

"I really should have called him today to say I was sorry, but I was still angry. I'm a jerk."

Trish stopped grating to look up into Sydney's face. Sydney avoided her eyes and ran the dough through her fingers. She didn't feel angry anymore, just dumb.

"What happened?"

Sydney shrugged as she started putting the dough on the pan. "We were both tired from practice. He saw me talking to Jason Melor while I was waiting for him. He asked what we were talking about—you know how he feels about Jason. I got defensive, so he got mad. It kind of escalated from there. Over nothing. When I see Jason on Monday, I think I'll kick him in the shins."

Trish laughed. "He probably deserves it. What were you guys talking about?"

This time, she let out her ire on the can opener. "He asked me for Monica Jefferson's phone number!"

"Why would you have Monica's phone number? You hate her."

"Apparently sitting next to her in English is a privileged position." Sydney frowned, thinking of the perky blond whose annoying voice drove her crazy.

"Oh, I forgot about that. You poor thing. Here, have some pepperoni."

Trish waved the meat at Sydney, who ducked so it wouldn't hit her in the face.

"Easy with that, Sir Lancelot. I could be the first teenager to die by pepperoni."

"At least I didn't throw a box at your head," Trish declared, sticking out her tongue.

Sydney took the pepperoni and handed Trish the opened cans of pizza sauce. "Does that dough look big to you? Is this package supposed to make two pizzas?"

"Beats me...So, are you going to call Tony?"

"Not tonight. His mother would kill me if I called at almost one a.m. I'll call him when we get up. How thick do you want these, anyway?"

"Quite thin. About Monica, I heard she's moved on to Biff Martin."

Sydney snorted. "She'll have dated the whole football team by the time we graduate."

"Except Tony."

The thought of Monica and Tony together made her stomach roll. "If they know what's good for them."

By then, Trish had finished with the tomato sauce, so they sprinkled the pizza with pepperoni and cheese.

"You know, Syd, this looks great." There was surprise in Trish's voice.

"What'd I tell you? You should have more faith in me."

The pizza went into the oven with a bang of the door.

"So, what's next?"

Sydney looked at the clock. "I think Romancing the Stone is coming on at one. Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas running around the wilds of Columbia. Who could resist?"

"You just like it because it reminds you of relic hunting."

"And you just like Dirty Dancing because you like Patrick Swayze's a..." Her comment trailed off into a laugh as Trish roughly pushed her into the hallway. "Hey!"

"If you don't want to miss the beginning, you'd better get moving," Trish said, still pushing as they went down the hallway. Then, suddenly, she stopped.

"What is it?"

"Did you remember to put on the timer?"

The end


	6. Brief Interlude

Brief Interlude

by Tanya Reed

Okay, here's my latest challenge fic. I don't know whether I like it or not. I hope you do.

Challenge: Syd singing, any length

Words: 610

Disclaimer: I don't own Relic Hunter or its characters; I only wish that I did. No profit is being made from this story.

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Nigel ached. He ached more than he could ever remember aching before. The pain radiated out from bones, through muscle and tissue, filling up all of his senses and making his mind foggy.

He groaned and opened his eyes. At least he opened one eye. The other was swelled shut and, from what Sydney had said, an ugly combination of dark purple, blue, and black. Both of them felt gritty. The pounding in his head sounded as if someone were beating a drum.

Sydney had been sitting beside him silently, but at his groan she straightened. Her eyes widened and she frowned.

"What is it?" she asked quickly. "Are you okay?"

He winced. "The painkillers haven't kicked in yet."

"Oh, Nigel."

She gently ran her fingers up his forearm in sympathy. He looked at her carefully with his good eye and noticed that her hair was untidy and her clothes rumpled. Dark stains marred the caramel tinted flesh under her eyes. There were lines in her forehead and around her mouth.

"The doctor said I'm going to be fine. You should go back to the hotel and get some rest."

The lines deepened. "I'm not leaving you."

"There's nothing you can do."

"I can make sure you get some sleep." He heard the echo of the words she didn't say. I can make sure you're really all right."

"Don't worry about me."

"How can I not worry? You look like hell."

He felt a faint smile come to his face. "Thanks, Syd. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

One slim hand twisted as it raked through her hair. "What do you mean? I've been here all...Oh, I get it. It's not going to work, Bailey. You're stuck with me. At least until the drugs take over and I see you sleeping like a baby."

"I think that might be pretty soon." Nigel felt his body start to relax and his eyes start to droop. Everything began to feel detached and far away—except for Sydney. He felt her hand once more run down his arm; he heard her breath as she leaned over him, her eyes full of the things she couldn't say.

"Are you getting sleepy?" she asked softly.

"Yes." His voice came out slightly slurred, as if he'd been drinking.

"Good." She sounded relieved. He knew his pain was hurting her. She always blamed herself when he got hurt.

Warmth filled him as Sydney's hand went to his forehead. Tender fingers brushed the hair away. They caressed his face, leaving trails of peace that no drug could replicate. Nigel closed his eyes.

On the edge between awareness and sleep, Nigel asked, "Will you sing for me, Syd? My mum used to sing to me when I got hurt."

The fingers stilled on his cheek. "Nigel, I..."

He had never heard her sing before. Maybe she was embarrassed. "Never mind. It was silly."

"No," she whispered. "I'm being silly. I don't like to sing. I'm awful, and my grandmother was so wonderful."

"You're wonderful to me."

She gave a soft laugh and smoothed back his hair again. "All right, you asked for it."

When she started to sing lowly, Nigel decided that he loved her singing voice. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad as she feared. To him, it sounded like Sydney herself—wild and fierce but sweet. He wanted to tell her so, but his mouth wouldn't work anymore. Sleep was reaching out for him and pulling him under. His last thought before it claimed him completely was that somehow he'd have to get her to sing for him again.

The End


	7. A Link to the Past

Challenge: Nigel at sixteen, any length

Wordcount: 1127

Title: A Link to the Past.

Author: Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Characters and show: Not mine. Never mine. Never will be mine. But nobody said I couldn't play with them.

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Nigel didn't know what made him go into the little antiques shop. Normally, he loved browsing through history, but on that afternoon, he was supposed to meet his brother for lunch. Even so, when he passed by the window, something called to him, and he had to stop.

It wasn't very impressive from the outside. Stuck between two buildings, it had the look of being perpetually squashed. The little windows were so dusty that you could hardly see in, and the gold letters on them were so cracked and faded that they were hard to read.

As he stood there with his face almost pressed to the glass, Nigel frowned. Why did he have a crazy impulse to check out this store when he was already late? He shifted restlessly from foot to foot before making up his mind.

There was a bell above the door that tinkled jarringly as he walked in. The atmosphere inside was dark and gloomy. The small room smelled heavily of dust. It also smelled of something else. History.

That thought drove every bit of urgency he had about meeting Preston out of his mind. He'd been in antique stores before, but this one felt different. Despite the cough that threatened his throat, Nigel suddenly felt completely at home. The familiarity of a feeling he had been desperately missing brought tears to his eyes, and they burned from more than misplaced dust.

Nigel stepped deeper into the room, his eyes going to several things his studies had told him were extremely rare. He ached to touch them, but he feared his clumsiness.

"Can I help you?"

A melodious voice reached him, and he squinted to see an old fashioned counter across the room. Behind it stood a large woman with graying hair and a sharp, hawk-like nose.

"No...no, thank you," he said shyly; he hated when salespeople took notice of him, "I'm just looking."

"Look all you like, and feel free to ask questions."

"Thanks. I will."

He began browsing in earnest, heartened by the owner's blessing. It wasn't often a teenager was welcomed so warmly into a shop. Usually, when he went shopping, he could feel suspicious eyes boring into his back between his shoulder blades.

There were many interesting finds. Some of the things for sale were so old and so priceless, they were more relic than antique.

He was looking at one such artifact when something on the wall caught his eye. The breath caught in Nigel's throat. As if on a tether, he weaved among the wares, making his way to the object that fascinated him more than anything else in the shop.

It was a sword.

Old and nicked, it had seen battles. Even so, it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The blade was wonderfully etched with a simple swirling pattern. Despite its age and obvious well use, there was no sign of rust. Someone had cared for the weapon deeply. The hilt was practical and unadorned, its only affectation a slight swirling around the pommel that matched the deeper and slightly more elaborate etching Nigel noticed first. It was the kind of sword a proud man, one who cared more for his ability to defend himself and others than appearances, would wear.

Nigel felt his stomach clench and a longing to hold the sword tingle his fingertips. For the first time in six months, he let himself remember.

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"And Sir Nigel the Brave drew his sword!" Dad said excitedly, his brown eyes dancing. He put his hand to his hip and pretended to do the same.

Nigel sat on the living room floor, watching his father with awe and wonder.

"Then, he swung the mighty sword..."

Dad swished his arm through the air. Nigel couldn't remember ever seeing him look so excited or so happy. His arm swished back the other way, coming perilously close to the lamp Mum owned that was taller than Nigel.

Mum stood close. Though her arms were crossed, a smile was on her face.

"The demon Belisle became afraid because he knew he could not beat the mighty knight, not when the knight brandished his magic sword and gauntlet. Still, he had to try because failure would mean his death."

Dad whirled quickly. "The swords me..."

As he said this, he teetered a little too close to the lamp, and his hand hit it heavily.

"James, watch out!" Mum cried out, but there was laughter in her voice.

Dad stumbled and reached for the the lamp with fumbling fingers. The lamp swayed, and Nigel had a moment of panic as he wondered if he should move out of the way.

Mum leaped forward and added her hands to Dad's. After a bit of struggle, the lamp righted and Mum was standing in the circle of Dad's arms.

"Now, this is a prize worthy of a great knight."

Mum leaned forward to kiss him lightly, her blond hair brushing across his face.

"Ewww!" Nigel exclaimed because Preston would have, but really the sight made him feel like he was in a safe world filled with love.

At his comment, his parents broke apart grinning.

"I never have to be afraid," Mum said, "Not with three strong knights to look after me."

Nigel didn't think Preston was much of a knight. His brother reminded him more of a stern professor.

Then, Mum added, "Though I'd appreciate it if they minded the lamps."

Dad laughed at this and winked at her before asking Nigel, "Now where was I?"

"Sir Nigel and Belisle were just about to fight," Nigel reminded him eagerly.

"That's right. The swords of Sir Nigel the Brave and the evil Belisle met with a resounding clang. The monks cowered in terror..."

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"Do you like the sword then?"

Nigel jumped as the sudden voice jerked him out of his memory.

"Oh, yes," he admitted, turning to see the proprietor standing beside him.

"That," she told him, "is a very special sword, though not one in a hundred would notice. Most like bejeweled swords with pristine, untouched blades. You see the quality in its forging, don't you, lad? You see the strength and character deep within. What would shatter a lesser blade would fall against this one. Its simple guise hides the stout heart within."

"It's beautiful." She beamed at him when he said this so he hastened to add, "But I'm afraid you won't get a sale from me. I can't afford it."

The woman's hand was surprisingly gentle as she lay it on his shoulder briefly.

"Oh, I knew that. Still, the summer is almost upon us. I imagine a sturdy lad like yourself might be looking for a summer job. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I need someone to do the lugging for me. If you'll work for me, I'll pay you a fair wage, and when the summer's over, you can have the sword."

Nigel's mouth fell open. To own the sword that immediately brought warm and gentle memories of his parents—memories that, in the past six months, he had thought he lost? He'd give up more than a summer for that.

"But...you don't even know me."

A smile slowly came to her face. "You forget, lad. I also saw the value in the sword."


	8. The Conversation

The Conversation

by Tanya Reed

Challenge: A true drabble of exactly one hundred words, done entirely in conversation

Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters...

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"What is this? Did you make it?"

"Eat it, Nigel. It's good for you."

"Good for me?...I don't know about this, Syd. Is this part supposed to be green?"

"Yes! Now, eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've been whining for three hours about your stomach growling."

"I ate in the car."

"I would have seen you. No excuses. Do you think I'd poison the best assistant I've ever had?"

"The best? Really?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"I don't know what to say."

"That's a first."

"Funny, Syd...and I'm still not eating this."

"Oh, Nigel."


	9. Getting In

Challenge: Someone loses his or her keys on a Friday night.

Wordcount: I forgot to count. Somewhere between 500-1000 would be my guess.

Title: Getting In

Author: Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: I don't own Relic Hunter, and I know that I never will.

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Sydney yawned as she made her way up the front steps to her door. Her eyes felt gritty and her limbs were as heavy as if they had weights attached. It had been a long night. She hated formal university functions. For one thing, she had to squeeze herself into a fancy dress and carry a dainty purse instead of her sensible and sturdy satchel. Then, she had to socialize with painfully boring people and smile until her cheeks hurt.

Her yawn was followed quickly by a relieved smile. At least it was over. The smile widened as she remembered that the next such party wasn't for another three months. Somehow, she'd have to make sure she was on a relic hunt then.

On the step, she stopped to dig in the scrap of fabric some would call a purse. It was so tiny that it only held a few essentials. One of these was her house key—at least it was supposed to be. Sydney's eyes widened as she realized that she couldn't feel them. Frowning, she started taking things out and holding them between her fingers. Item by item, the purse was emptied, and Sydney's despair grew. When there was nothing else to take out, she turned it inside out just to make sure. Her keys were nowhere to be found. She must have lost them at the party.

She looked at her watch and saw it was after one a.m. She didn't have her phone, so she couldn't call anyone, and she couldn't even take her Jeep and go back to look for the keys because Nigel had borrowed it earlier after dropping her off at Chancellor Evans's house. She had taken a cab home.

Sydney stared at her purse for another moment before raising her eyes to glare accusingly at her front door. She tried to will it open with the strength of her anger, but it didn't work.

"What am I going to do?" she grumbled.

It was no use going into her garage and trying her other door. She always kept that one locked. Limply, she let herself drop to the step. The fall night air was chill, and she could feel the cold dampness of the cement reaching for her through her clothes. Goose bumps bloomed and gathered along the flesh of both her arms and her legs. Sydney shivered.

It came to her suddenly that there was only one thing she could do. Earlier that day, she had opened her bedroom window a crack to let in some of the cool, crisp air. She couldn't remember closing it, so it might still be open. It would take some work, but she should be able to snap off the screen and raise the window enough to get in—she just hoped none of her neighbors would see her and call 911. Just the thought of it sent flames racing across her face.

Now that she had a purpose, Sydney quickly got to her feet. Leaving her little purse sitting forlornly on the step, she started making her way around the house to her small backyard.

Her progress was going well until she stepped off the pave of her driveway into the grass. It was only then that she remembered the rain they had had over the past couple of days. Her high heels sinking foot deep into the soft mud and almost pitching her forward onto her face reminded her. She teetered there for a second, arms windmilling and water seeping into her toe-less shoes.

After weaving forward then backward several times, she finally steadied semi-upright. Not even daring to move, she waited to see if she would fall. When nothing happened, she dared to slip one foot out of a shoe and then the other.

The squelching mud squishing up between her toes felt horrible. She sank into the cold, disgusting stuff with a grimace. She knew her feet would feel like ice cubes before she was through.

She moved close to the side of the house where the ground seemed a little firmer, wincing as a stone stabbed painfully into her bare foot. A growl formed in her throat, and she wanted to curse someone. Unfortunately, the only one to blame was herself.

This cheerful thought brought her around to the pitch black of the back of her house. Sydney blinked several times, hoping her night vision would kick in and she'd see more than whispers of movement in the darkness, but, with the new moon, things remained unrecognizable. As she brushed her fingers along the side of her house as a guide, she thought that at least she was lucky all the snakes and spiders were in hibernation.

She moved slowly, careful not to stub her toes or trip over anything, so it seemed to take forever to reach her bedroom window. Even the longest journey's have an end, and a warm rush of relief washed over her as her fingertips brushed across the screen. She just hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to remove. It helped that she had put the screen in herself.

"My kingdom for a knife," she mumbled, running her fingers along the edge, searching for weaknesses.

In just minutes, Sydney found a place where it was loose and managed to wedge her thumbnail in between it and the window frame. With just a few wiggles, the loose corner popped out just enough for her to be able to give it a firm tug. Nothing happened. With a snarl, Sydney tugged again. The snarl turned to a squeak as she felt the screen tumble towards her. She jumped back but not in time. The screen bounced once off the top of her head before sliding down first her face, then her front, on its way to the ground. It happened so fast that all Sydney had time to do was blink in surprise.

She shook her head and a small, wry smile came to her face as she reached for the window. Her hands wrapped around the bottom and she pushed. It started moving very, very slowly.

Once it was barely wide enough for her body to slither through, she leaned forward. Since the window was about chest high, she got her head and shoulders inside.

"Meow?" a curious voice asked.

"It's just me," she said, peering into the gloom. Her bedroom was too dark to see Mafdet, even though her night vision was finally starting to work a little.

She put her hands against the wall and pushed with her feet, bringing more of her into the window. Her feet dangled, so she used her toes to try to get some purchase against the smooth siding.

She jolted suddenly as something brushed her hands, and she slid back enough to hit her head on the window with a solid clunk.

"..." She bit her tongue on the curse words and gave herself another push. If she didn't love her cat so much, she thought she might be almost tempted to strangle her.

Using the inside wall, Sydney was able to pull herself up until she was far enough to slide inside. She landed with a soft thump. Mafdet immediately started rubbing against her face and purring loudly.

"Stop!" A familiar voice made her jump. "Don't come any closer! I'm armed."

Sydney groaned and pushed herself into a sitting position.

"I'm warning you..." the voice continued. It shook a little.

"Relax, Nigel. It's me."

"Syd...What?"

Pain stabbed her eyes as Nigel flicked the light switch. Sydney threw up her arm and blinked away tears caused by the light's assault. "What are you doing here?"

As she pulled herself to her feet, she noticed that his shirt was rumpled and his hair stuck up at different angles.

"I...Well, when I got home, I saw that you had dropped your keys in the Jeep. I was worried that you wouldn't be able to get in, and I didn't know how late you would be. Since I wasn't invited to the Chancellor's party, I decided to come here and wait for you. I parked the Jeep in the garage and let myself in."

She raised her eyebrows. "And fell asleep?"

He nodded, stifling a yawn. "And fell asleep, but that shouldn't have mattered."

"Why's that?" Sydney didn't know whether to hug him for being so sweet or shake him for napping while she was crossing the yard in the dark.

"The door was unlocked."


End file.
